Have a Heart
by SofiaLeith
Summary: Sherlock and John meet again. Scene based on the 3rd season teaser trailer. R&R please. Slight Johnlock.


**A/N:** I've just seen the teaser trailer and I had to get this out of me before I forgot it. Sherlock and John meet again. Hope you like it and, if possible, review it.

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My heart is pounding madly inside my ribcage, I can barely hear my thoughts. Usually this would disturb me to no end, but right now I really don't care. You're here. I've always prided myself in my lack of sentiment, that theory has gone out the window now, because of _you_, thank you very much.

I walk closer, you're looking at your menu, you barely see anything around you. So ordinary, so loyal, so _you_. You're not ordinary at all, though. You are something I can't explain, and isn't that hilarious?

Your moustache looks ridiculous, but I suppose this is your way of creating a new identity for yourself, try to build a new life. You look uncomfortable in a suit; you were never a man of suits. Bloody hell, I've missed you.

"Hello, John."

You freeze. The only thing moving now is your hand, trembling. You put down the menu, but you don't look up, not yet. You're scared, scared that you've gone mad, no, worse, you're scared that you'll look up and I won't be here.

"Glad you haven't ordered yet, it would be terribly rude of you to do so. I heard the calamari here is delicious, I wouldn't believe that if I were you, though. Have you seen the chef? His apron should be white, but it isn't, it's grimy, though he thinks he can hide it in this poorly lighten restaurant, he's been—"

"Sher…lock."

And I couldn't speak if I tried. I should have more self-control than this, I've prepared for this, haven't I? Well, so much for that. I am swallowing down the lump that suddenly formed on my throat. You seem to be in the same predicament, if the tears on your eyes are any indication. Your hands are white from gripping the table so hard, you open and close your mouth as quickly as you blink. I can't move.

"Wha…what…I…I don't unders…"

Your voice escaped you, and it has taken mine with it. God, is this what ordinary people deal with every day? It's so troublesome. There are so many things I need to tell you, but I can't even open my mouth, I can barely keep staring into your eyes. I never thought that just sitting and looking composed could take so much effort.

"I'm back!"

I manage to say, barely. The words come out raspy, I'm speaking at such low tone I can barely hear myself, I wonder if you heard me at all. A tear falls, you quickly wipe it off.

"Well, no shit, Sherlock."

And we're laughing - although it may look like sobbing to the amateur eye, or maybe a mixture of both. You keep rubbing your eyes, but your cheeks are still wet. Minutes pass by before either of us speak again, and I have this odd wish to…

…hug you? What?!

"Never liked this place anyway. I have to wear a bloody suit to come here! Me! A suit!" I smile, as do you, "Maybe Mrs. Hudson can cook us something."

"Ah, I spoke to her, apparently there's a stew of some sort waiting for us."

"You phoned her?" We're both getting up now, albeit somewhat wobbly. You put some money on the table with your shaky hands and stand before me, looking up.

"Ah…" I lost my words again. It's like I never left. It's like none of that ever happened. "Not exactly. However, I think I deserve a welcome dinner, don't I?"

"You should starve, that's you deserve." We walk out, you with your ridiculous moustache, me with lighters shoulders and an even lighter…heart.

"Surely you don't mean that!"

You pause at the sidewalk, right after signalling for a cab. It stops in front of us and you turn to me as you open the door, "No, I don't. I'm…" your voice breaks again, "I'm just g-glad... Hm…"

"I know."

"Oi? You two lovebirds plan on goin' anywhere? A bloke gotta make a living, ya know?"

"Ah, yes, sorry." We get in the cab and you don't even correct him, like you usually would. I laugh. You shake your head in annoyance once you realize you slipped.

"Shut up."

"Not saying anything, John." I look at you and laugh, you look away, half-smiling.

"So…you didn't actually call Mrs. Hudson out of the blue, back from the…well, you know, just to ask what's for dinner, right?"

"Of course not. I showed up and asked for stew, I already knew what I wanted for dinner after all." You sigh, rub your eyes and shake your head again, but you're still smiling.

"Sherlock, the poor woman must've fainted! Have a heart, will you?"

"Ah, you don't need to ask me that. _You_ know I have it".

"Have what?" I roll my eyes, you glare.

"A heart, John."


End file.
